The Creevy Brothers in Pseudonarnia
by Elliot Pole
Summary: When the world of Narnia ended, the leader of another world discovered the space Narnia used to occupy, and creates a sinister version of the beloved land.  It is up to Colin and Dennis Creevy to save the Talking Beasts from internal destruction.
1. The Birth of Pseudonarnia

**The Creevy Brothers in Pseudonarnia**

"What is a Zra to do?" the biped serpent asked himself. He was sitting on a bronze throne in an oblong room, contemplating whom he would choose as his successor. His time for death was near at hand. Should he pick Laam, who was the quickest of the royal court, as shown by his scores at the Tri-Lamb races? Or would C'hin be better, in sight of his mental perspicacity? Perhaps Joole, the radish fetcher would be just as good. The Zra would have to select the best among equals.

He ordered some rattail tea, which was brought him presently. After taking a long draft, he felt queasy. His heart was palpitating at an alarming rate, and he swooned.

"Zra Nuum! Are you all right?" queried the solicitous Rachetess, the Zra's daughter.

"I'm fine, darling. Just a little stomachache, that's all."

"I was worried the rattail tea might be poisoned. I should've had it tasted first."

"No, no. The tea was just as safe as always." As soon as Zra Nuum uttered this sentence, realization hit him, and he wore a startled expression. "Rachetess, call the magicians!"

She looked at her father worriedly, but when he repeated his command, she reluctantly complied.

Three serpent-men entered. They were all orange—the color of sorcery, as they defined it.

"Wza, Supperzi, and Quilst, I have called you here to ask you to relate to me the story of the Wood Between the Worlds."

"But, Zra Nuum, we have requested myriad times to be given countenance to our tale, but thus far you have spurned our efforts."

"Today, my subjects, is different. I am near death. And I have a feeling…but tell me your story first, then I'll toss my theory out."

"Gladly. The Wood Between the Worlds is a vast area of portals that can take you to any of the existing worlds," Supperzi began. "There are dozens and dozens."

"And it's calm, peaceful, tranquil," supplied Wza, who often used multiple adjectives to describe a single object or idea.

"But you forget who you are in that place, if you permit the Wood to take over your mind," Quilst added.

"Yes, the world—if it can be called a world in its own right—has that stupefying effect," Supperzi concurred.

"How does one get into the worlds from the Wood?" the Zra inquired.

"The same way you get into the Wood. Or…not. You see, there is a kind of dust that takes you to the Wood, and from there takes you into any world you desire. Of course, you won't know what type of world you're going to until you arrive."

"Supperzi, you're getting your facts all mixed up," Quilst interrupted. "From your explanation, a single form of dust takes someone both to the Wood and the world they choose. In actuality, there are two types of dust: one is green and one is yellow. The green dust is 'home-loving' and is magnetically attracted to the Wood. Yellow dust is 'home-loathing' and pulls you away from the Wood. Then there are pools—"

"Yes, the pools are the portals. I forgot to mention that. You jump into a pool while in contact with yellow dust, and seconds later you'll find yourself in another world."

"Thank you for interrupting me, Supperzi," Quilst said, sarcastically.

"Hey, you interrupted me first!"

"On account of you giving him fallacious information!"

"Well at least I didn't tell the Zra that warthogs could be found in the polar regions, as if any fool would believe that!"

"Gentlemen, let's not head into dangerous waters," Zra Nuum said, since he despised altercations.

"As I was saying," Quilst commenced, while giving Supperzi the evil eye, "the dust can be shaped and formed into objects of the user's desire. I've heard tale of a man from one of the worlds who made rings out of them: green rings to go to the Wood, and yellow rings to go somewhere else. Oh, yes, there's one more thing. But it involves the death of a world, and I would not wish to relate it without the Zra's permission."

"My world is near its culmination. Do not hesitate to tell me, Quilst. This last thing you have to say may be the highlight of my life."

"Highlight. Acme. Zenith. Summit. Crest. The highest point."

"Thank you, Wza, for your polite enumeration. Anyhow, every world has an end. No world is eternal; the Suns destroy them or they are ravaged by war. Corruption, violence, willful ignorance, rape, abortion, lenient morals…these kinds of things lead to the inevitable destruction of a world. Only places that are free from vice, one-hundred percent, can avoid annihilation."

"What happens to the corresponding pool of a world that was destroyed?"

"It disappears, and in its stead is a lump, like a hill."

"Well, gentlemen, I believe I need to go to this Wood, and explore it."

"But, Zra Nuum, it is a perilous journey! What if you don't return? Send one of us instead!" the three magicians said in unison.

"I'm afraid this is something I alone can do."

"Zra Nuum, you must comprehend what you ask of us! You may be eaten alive by creatures more puissant than yourself, or fall down a cliff, or suffer some other handicap, and there'll be no one to tell rule us! You know what that means?"

"Chaos, anarchism, tumultuous rallies, terror, burglary, crimes on unprecedented scale." Wza interjected.

"And at your time of life? I wouldn't send anyone whose as close to death as you. Please reconsider!"

"I have given you my opinion, and I shall remain adamant. You give me the means to get to the Wood, or capital punishment shall befall you all. Including the Rachetess."

The Zra's daughter, listening at the door since she was barred from the meeting, gasped. Her father would kill her, his only remaining family member, just because some magicians were committing insubordination? Surely he was just raving?

"Surely you wouldn't—"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If I do not go to the Wood, my entire life will be wasted. Oh, I see your shocked looks. A Zra saying his life was worthless, as if he was some little pauper! But I'm telling you, my life has no meaning.

"I need a chance to do something no serpent-man has ever done before. That's what going to the Wood will allow me to achieve. To find a purpose, to leave a legacy behind."

Supperzi was the most sympathetic. "I understand your desire, Zra Nuum. Thus, I will supply you with the green dust myself. But you must give me three days' time."

"You have your requested time, but do not, under any circumstances, ask me to extend it. I am not long of this world, or any world for that matter."

The three magicians exited the throne room, and the Rachetess entered.

"You weren't serious, were you, Papa?"

"Oh, eavesdropping! Haven't I taught you proper etiquette? But yes, my darling, I was serious. I knew that the magicians didn't value their lives half as much as yours, so by threatening to kill you, they'd have to give in."

The Rachetess put her feelings of distress aside, since her father had shown her that she was beautiful and regarded as a treasure. However, she worried about her father's health.

"About this journey you're planning to take. Do you really think its good for your heart?"

"It may not be good for my heart, but it's wonderful for my soul."

Then the Zra got off his throne and left the Rachetess behind to puzzle over his enigmatic expression.

A week later, the three magicians presented the Zra with a green goblet. They were wearing gloves, and told him that the instant he touched the cup, he'd be whisked away to the Wood Between the Worlds.

"What do we do if you don't return?" Supperzi queried.

"If I'm not back within a fortnight, you may presume me to be dead, and select my successor."

"Have you not yourself chosen?"

"No, but I will have by the time I come back."

"_If _you come back."

The Zra nodded grimly, then reached for the proffered goblet.

He soon found himself in a tranquil valley, with scant trees here and there. And he saw the myriad pools that had been described in the magician's account. But things were so peaceful that he was rapidly losing memory of the world he had just left. The Zra sat down to rest; he felt very enervated. He set the goblet down, and just stared absent-mindedly before him.

Had he not always been here? It seemed ridiculous to suppose that he had ever been anywhere else. He remembered some world, where he ruled a nation of serpent-men as their Zra. But that had to have been no more than a dream.

Just as the Zra was beginning to feel loneliness overwhelm him—a feeling he'd never known in his homeland—he lifted his hand and knocked it against something hard. He had toppled the goblet, and something yellow had rolled out. Since he was curious, he bent over the yellow object, saw it was an orb, and picked it up. All his memories came flooding back to him.

The most important thing was for him to find a dead world. His heart had palpitated in response to a world in its moribund state, and now he must discover the source of it. He saw a lump in the ground a hundred yards away, and he headed towards it. However, he knew, intuitively, that this was not the spot he was searching for.

After seventeen such lumps, the Zra was beginning to give it up for a lost cause. There had to be eighty pools for every lump. He was exhausted from all his running, and he sat down to rest.

A few minutes went by, and then the Zra heard something very miraculous. The sound of fluttering wings. The provenance of this beautiful music revealed herself to be a fairy, about three inches tall. She indicated that Zra Nuum should follow.

She dragged him through a tortuous maze of pools and trees, till they finally arrived at the place the Zra was looking for.

_Now what do I do? _the Zra wondered. The fairy began to hum a merry tune. He realized that perhaps that was supposed to do: sing.

In a low baritone, he began to create the only music known to his world. It was a song about a mendicant goldfish who had begged serpent-men to spare his life. The Zra put his heart in it, and when he finished he noticed the fairy's approval.

Lowering his gaze, the Zra was astonished to see that there was a pool in lieu of the lump that had been there moments before. Not knowing what to do, he stared at the fairy. Though she did not look strong, she flittered up to his hand and lifted it, until the yellow orb was in plain sight. Then the fairy imitated diving.

"So, I should jump in the pool, clutching the yellow orb, and that will take me to my destination?"

The fairy did zigzags in the air, indicating assent.

"Okay, here it goes." The Zra plunged into the unknown.

The Zra had fainted. He was completely worn out from running, and entering a new world was not something one did every day.

When he regained consciousness, he thought he had gone blind. Everything was pitch black, and the rods in his retina could not make out anything. At first, he could not understand how that could be. Then realization hit him: this was a new world, and there was nothing in it. Someone had to create the light, and the water, the flora, and the fauna, the mountains, and the valleys, the people, and the culture.

The Zra decided to wait for the creator to show up. He'd like to make some suggestions; when he was a kid, he had always dreamed of advising a creator in his decisions. Now he'd have an opportunity.

But no one came. Days went by, and, alas, no creator. Twenty-four hour darkness was beginning to unnerve the Zra, and he decided to do something about it.

He searched his memory for a song other than the fish one, which he was tired of. Suddenly, he heard within himself some words he had never known. The Zra knew at once that these were the words he desired. He would be the Creator.

At first, he sang of light, light that felt, and embraced the world. When he had finished, a sun peeked out of the sky. The ground was purely white, nothing appealing about it. The Zra then sang of soil, deep, vitamin-rich soil hungry to feed the world.

He moved to plants, from grass to sequoias. Some would be more intelligent than others. The gardens of the world would conceal darkness, would be the keeper of secrets, and the most loyal of the Zra's creation.

Water was next. Streams, lakes, rivers, oceans…all strategically planned. But, there was a twist: the water would not be naturally blue, the way it was in the Zra's world. No: it would be a mixture of black and orange. That way, the water could hide villains beneath its depths, and create a more perfect world.

The sky deserved its own song. It would be black by night, and orange by day. Perpetually, there would be clouds, in the shape of Greek crosses and crimson in hue, making them visible only at night. But the clouds would be given free will, and the ability to alter their shape as they pleased. Whenever someone noticed an oddly-shaped cloud, it would mean danger was coming.

Finally, it was time for the creatures. He thought of the beasts at home, and started to use them as a design for the ones he was soon to bring to life. But something within him said this was a bad idea. And so, he commenced by bringing out animals we are familiar with: koalas, giraffes, ants, hornbills, dogs, jaguars, foxes, apes, rhinos, hippos, lions, tigers, bears, fish, whales, etc.

These animals emerged from the ground, and shook off the dust that remained on them. That is, excluding the beasts of the sea, who were born out of the very bottoms of the ocean.

The Zra created nymphs, and Nereids, sartyrs, and hags, centaurs and harpies. Anything and everything short of men.

But his hunger for creation was not yet sated. He started a song that would bring out people, the masters of this world. First there were shadows, and the Zra kept singing his way until the shadows reflected the kind of men he wished to rule. Then noble heads appeared, and regal arms. The men were coming out.

However, the Zra felt his insides ready to burst. He had lost his voice! The men were waist-deep in the earth; their bottom halves not yet formed. They cried to their creator to finish the job, but he heard them not.

In the Zra's mind he heard a roar of disapproval. New words came to him, and he could've sworn he heard a voice say, "Sing those."

Naturally, he obeyed. His voice had returned, and he commenced the new song. The men saw themselves sinking, and shouted curses and blasphemies at their creator. Soon, all that remained was shadows. Then, those too dissipated. Not a trace remained of the Zra's men.

All the animals stood in a row, patiently awaiting the Zra's blessing. He advanced toward them. The voice who had said, "Sing those" now advised him.

"Pick among your creatures those whom you trust. Two of each animal, one male, one female. These you shall call the Talking Beasts."

The Zra did as he was bid. He motioned for two elephants to step forward, and the other elephants left to explore the world. The same with the jackals, the parakeets, the dolphins. It must be noted that he chose the animals with the most evil of dispositions.

When he had gone through them all, the animals surrounded the Zra. He then cleared his throat, and said, "You are the Talking Beasts."

Some of the smaller animals, such as the rabbit, got larger, while some of the larger animals, such as the giraffe, lost a great deal of height.

"We can speak!" said a jackdaw, merrily.

"Yes. That is my gift to you. And I must soon go."

"But, you created us, and just now gave us our voice boxes," said a brown bear. "You can't leave us just yet."

"Yes; please don't!" A hyena entreated.

"At least tell us your name, so that we may know who to worship," a goose said, flatteringly.

"I am Zra Nuum. And, as Talking Beasts, you have a duty. You are the masters of this world, and you must rule over the dumb creatures that were once your brothers. Do not mate with them, for they are not of your ilk. Be kind to them, and do not mock them for lacking your abilities." He had said this last sentence in a sarcastic tone, little expecting them to obey it. "And now I must go."

"No!" many of the Talking Beasts protested. "We were just born; you must stay!"

"Children!" shouted the she-snake, insolently. She and her mate felt superior to the other Talking Beasts, because they had the most in common with the Zra, although they had no legs or arms. "If he must go, he shall. Who are we to stop him?"

"Well spoken!" the Zra said, admiring the she-snake. "You shall be the Queen, and rule over all the Talking Beasts. Your name shall be Kyrielle."

Never did Zeus love any mortal woman more than the Zra loved his creation. He was like Pygmalion, who fell in love with his statue of Athena. Kyrielle, the precious, had captivated the Zra's heart. He wished he could give her arms and legs, but all the music was gone from his mind. Looking at her mate, he was strongly disappointed. The Zra thought that at best Kyrielle's husband would be a pauper in his world.

Zra Nuum reached into his pocket, in which there was a shard remaining from the goblet. Shortly, he found himself back in the Wood. His friend, the fairy, was there, awaiting his return.

She escorted him back to his world's pool. Then she gave him a kiss on his scaly cheek, and vanished into thin air.

He jumped into the water with the yellow orb ensconshed between his fingers, and saw his throne room come sharply into focus.

The three magicians were there, alone. The Rachetess was presumably outside.

"How have affairs gone, since I've been away?" the Zra asked.

"Why, you just left a second ago. No time has passed at all."

"But that's preposterous! I've been gone for days!"

"Well, it's the strange physics of the interactions of the worlds. The time of some worlds goes much faster than time here. And of course, you could spend thousands of years in the Wood, but you when you return all shall be as you left it."

"That is strange. But I think it's time to announce my successor."

"Okay. We'll set up an appointment with the council for next week."

"It'll be too late, then. Tell them I think C'hin would do." Then the Zra shut his eyes. He never woke again.

To "toss a theory out" means to tell someone about a hypothesis you have, not to replace a former hypothesis with a new one.

A Greek cross is one that has four arms of equal length at right angles.


	2. Trial of Love

**The Creevy Brothers in Pseudonarnia**

**Chapter Two**

It was Colin Creevy's sixth year at Hogwarts, and he was taking photographs of a raven resting on the lawn. However, a silly brunette got in the way, and she was in the picture instead.

"Romilda!" he shouted. "Why do you always have to mess up my photography? How can I ever hope to attain the skills of Alfred Stieglitz if you're always butting in?"

"Photos of me are more important than any old bird," she said, flipping her hair.

"I'm trying to create art here, Romilda, and you are not quite aesthetic enough. The fact that you're dating Dennis doesn't give you the right to interfere with my work."

"Well, if you're going to treat me like that, I'll have you know I'm dumping Dennis as soon as he's released from the hospital wing."

"Romilda, you can't do that!" exclaimed Colin, his eyes wide. "You wouldn't dare break my poor brother's heart, would you?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. Besides, I like Harry Potter types, dark, dangerous, adventuresome. I just went out with Dennis as a defense mechanism, because Harry is hung up over _precious Ginny Weasley." _She said her rival's name with disdain.

"You can't blame him. Ginny's the most comely girl in school."

"Yeah, well, boo to her. Dennis is history, nevertheless."

Colin tried to protest, but some of Romilda's friends showed up. He could not talk to her in front of them.

He went toward the hospital wing, instead of the Herbology Patch, where class was starting. Colin decided he needed to prepare Dennis for Romilda's decision.

Turning about a corner after leaving the front atrium, Creevy saw a door he never noticed before. It was bright-yellow, with a large white "X" across its center. Colin tried to open the door, but it was locked. Curiosity got the better of him. Pulling out his wand, he said, _"Allohomora!"_

The door refused to succumb to his incantation. He knew only one person in the entire world who would know how to open such a door: Hermione Granger.

Dennis was not at all perturbed or discomfited by Colin's news that Romilda was thinking of dumping him. He himself had only dated her because Sheila Diggs, a fourth-year Ravenclaw, had spurned him.

Colin told his brother a little about the door, but he wanted to wait until Dennis had recovered before approaching Hermione.

Because Hermione was rarely to disturbed, since she spent so much time doing research in the library, it was a month and a half before Colin could speak to her. She was alone in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry being at Quidditch practice. The orange cat, Crookshanks, was purring near her leg.

"Er…excuse me, Hermione?" Colin asked, timidly.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a task I have for you that involves very advanced magic, of which I'm too stupid to learn."

"Oh, Colin, don't ever let me hear you call yourself stupid!"

"Well, I just mean that it's impossible for me to do, but nothing's impossible for you, so I thought…"

"Why, of course I'll help you! Just tell me what it is."

"There's a locked door in the school, that will not open by the usual _Allohomora _spell. I was wondering if you know of another way…" His voice drifted off into space.

"Colin, this is a very dangerous thing you ask of me. Do you have any particular reason for wanting to open this door?"

"There's some kind of attractive force about it, and I can't get it off my mind. I'm behind in my schoolwork, and will most likely never catch up. All I can think is, 'What on earth is behind that door?' Even the Forgetfulness Potion can't help."

"In that case, consider me your accomplice," said Hermione, even though she was horrified that anything could be more important than schoolwork. "But, first I must see the door, before I go into some heavy-duty research."

Colin led her to where he had spotted it. Hermione made sure it was locked, checked _Allohomora _herself, and then tried a Muggle trick with a safety pin, but nothing worked.

"Okay, Colin, I think we can call this the Imperturbable Door. But I'll find a way to force it to open, or my name isn't Hermione Granger!" Then she darted off.

It was a fortnight before Colin saw Hermione again. "Did you find a spell?" he asked her.

She looked at him with blurry eyes, suffering from a lack of sleep. Then she nodded.

"Great! How soon can it be performed?"

"Two days, five weeks, seven years, a lifetime. It won't work at all unless you do something first."

"What must I do?"

"You must fall in love."

"Piece of plum pudding."

"No, it's not, Colin. You can't just force yourself to love someone. Love is an incontrollable force that bites you when you least expect it. And before you thinking of drinking Love Potion, you must be aware that that won't work, because you must have true love. That is why time is indefinite."

"But…that means that you'll probably graduate before I can penetrate that door!" Colin exclaimed, exasperatedly. Hermione waited for him to calm down. "Do you think you could find another spell, a feasible, pragmatic one?"

"I'll try, but I don't believe it's possible."

Colin stormed away, indignantly.

She had to be wrong! He could force himself to fall in love, if he just tried. How hard could it be?

The next day was February fourteenth. Colin thought he'd be able to kill two birds in one stone: get a date for Valentine's Day and fall in love. And shortly, the secrets behind the Imperturbable Door would be his.

First, there was a fourth-year Hufflepuff named Priscilla Ismugi, who was head over heels for Colin. She was a Lilliputian with black hair and violet eyes.

He decided to surprise her, and had some roses ordered from a botany store in Diagon Alley, to be delivered in the morning.

Priscilla Ismugi was astonished that Colin was finally paying attention to her, when she had shown interest in him for a year now. They made a date to meet on Hogsmeade weekend, which was scheduled for the Saturday following St. Valentine's.

Madame Milkin's was sweetly pink, with tiny cupids fluttering about. Colin bought some hot chocolate for Priscilla, but nothing for himself. He claimed that he did this to drink in her beauty, which he would be hindered from doing had he a physical beverage before him.

"So, Colin, do you think you could take a picture of me, here, and then someone else could take one of us together?"

"I'll consent to taking your picture, Priscilla, but I have to decline on us taking one together."

"But, don't you love me?"

"Of course I do, my dear. I just don't like other people touching my camera."

After voicing this idiosyncratic sensitivity, Colin pulled out the instrument in question. He then took her picture.

Priscilla asked Colin if he would kiss her, since he had not yet ventured to do so. He readily complied, but somehow it was not satisfying. She was positively enchanted; Colin felt nothing.

He could not understand it. Didn't he love her? Why were her lips so bland, so insipid, so unattractive to kiss? Perhaps he was kidding himself, but nevertheless, he decided to give it a try.

When they returned from Hogsmeade, Colin sought out Hermione, and found her in the library, studying avidly for her N.E.W.T.'s. He was alone, for Priscilla had do go do her hair, or some other feminine nonsense.

"Hermione, I think I'm ready to open the door. I'm in love now," he said cheerfully, in a mellifluous tone.

"Are you sure, Colin? You seem a little too eager, and the spell will not work except through true love."

"Yes, I'm certain."

"Well, tell me about it. Who's the lucky girl?"

"No other than Priscilla Ismugi, a fourth year Hufflepuff. She's spectacular, has the most beautiful jet-black hair, and a dulcet voice. Writes poetry, mostly love poems. Priscilla is the girl of my dreams; far superior to any lady I've ever met."

"And when you kiss her? How do you feel afterwards? Elated or light-hearted or what?"

"It's hard to say what I feel," Colin said, evasively.

Hermione was very suspicious. A true lover would find the kiss an enthralling subject, and would most certainly be thrilled when he locked lips with his girl.

"We shall see," Hermione thought. Out loud she said, "Bring Priscilla to see me at dinner tomorrow. You will have to pass a test to prove you really love her, and if you fail, it cannot be done. The door shall remain shut."

Colin did as he was bid, and promptly at seven thirty he stood before the Gryffindor table with the girl he professed to love.

"Okay, you two must kiss," Hermione told them.

They did so, and Hermione took careful notice of Colin's facial expression. When the kiss had ended, he looked disgruntled, confused, and unhappy.

"Good," Hermione said. "Colin, I'll talk to you later. Alone, if you please." Then she darted off to the library.

"Why does she want to see you alone?" Priscilla asked, upset to learn that there might be a rival for her boyfriend's heart.

Colin shrugged his shoulders, and they sat down to a meal of pot roast and rice. It was most advantageous to keep Priscilla wholly ignorant of the Imperturbable Door and the mysteries that surrounded it.

He went to meet Hermione as soon as he had the opportunity, but she had left library and gone to the common room. By the time he got there, his muscles felt enervated. Desire to slumber almost overcame his desire to hear Hermione's evaluation, but he forced himself to approach her.

"Colin," she began, when she saw him. "I'm obliged to claim you do not love Priscilla, as you mistakenly believe you do. I noticed that your reaction to the kiss was passionless and perturbed. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I find it necessary. And I'll reiterate: you can't force yourself to fall in love, as you apparently were trying to do with Priscilla."

Colin took the news bitterly, but was too tired to argue. He went to the bedroom of the other sixth years and fell into a dreamless sleep.

At breakfast the ensuing morning, Colin dumped Priscilla Ismugi.

"But, what have I done wrong?" she asked, through salty tears.

"Nothing, precious. It's just…I have a lot of work to do now, you know, since I'm in challenging N.E.W.T. courses. I don't have time for relationships," he lied.

"If I catch you with Hermione Granger, cuddling and kissing, I'll get my revenge!"

Before Colin could think up a retort for this acrimonious declaration, Priscilla left to go to the Hufflepuff table.

Pondering over it later, he thought Priscilla had given him a wonderful idea. Why not ingratiate himself with Hemione, and make her the loved one he needed to open the Imperturbable Door?

The next time he saw her, she was walking with Harry and Ron, and he was among a group of sixth years heading to his next class. Acting impetuously, he reached out for her hand, and grabbed it.

"Yes, Colin, what is it?"

He smiled as if he were smitten, then held her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"Colin, what do you think you are doing?" Ron asked, indignantly. "Get your hands off my girlfriend!"

"I love you, Hemione," Creevy whispered in her ear.

Her eyes opened wide. "Colin, please stop. Let me go!"

He clung even harder. "Not till you understand that I care deeply about you. You are my sun, my light, my world. Every breath that I take, every thought I make, is imbued with two words: Hermione Granger."

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Colin turned stiff, like a block of ice. And fell down, hard. The only thing moving were his eyes.

"Thank you, Ron. He really was beginning to give me the creeps." And the three ambled away.

Though nobody observed it, there was a shadow on the wall a mere fifty feet away from the hazardous love scene above. Later, in the spot where the shadow had been, one could've seen a pool of tears.

For the next solid month, Hermione was never, ever separated from a group. So Colin found it impossible to have a _tete-a-tete _with her. Finally, one day in early April, he had a chance.

"Hermione, why didn't you accept my love?"

"Don't talk to me, Colin, or if you must, please let's avoid that particular topic."

"But I must know!"

"Fine: here it is. I'm in love with Ronald Weasley, and nothing you can possibly say will induce me to change my mind. And as for you, love will pounce on you when you least expect it. Quit trying to hurry it along. Take my advice, and relax. Forget all about the Imperturbable Door. One day, it shall come."

"I hope it comes soon."

"Just don't think about it, and it will."

"I…I'll try."

After this conversation, Colin doubled the time he spent practicing photography. He had been neglecting his camera for some time, except to take a few pictures here and there. "Forget the door, forget the door," he kept reminding himself.

One day, he went to the lake. He wondered if his parents would shriek if they saw a picture of a giant squid…not that that creature would ever bother to reveal itself for a camera-hungry teenager.

He saw a pelican flying over the lake, which was strange, because those birds usually confined themselves to the sea. (Colin didn't know this of course, but no pelican had ever been seen on the Hogwarts grounds in its entire history.)

The pelican was certainly larger than most of his species. He looked better groomed, too. He landed a few feet away from Colin.

Due to the rarity of this find, and the picturesque sight the pelican made, staring at the lake, Colin couldn't resist taking a photograph of this phenomenon. First, he made sure the film was intact, then held it up to his eye.

Before he could press the button and snap what looked to be his masterpiece, a girl with dark-brown hair got in the way. Instead of a beautiful pelican, he received a photo of a lady dressed in glamorous attire and poised in a striking manner, arms akimbo, appearing as the personification of Pride and Content.

"Romilda!" He shouted at her. But somehow, deep inside, he was not angry. It was only natural for her to want to be at the center of attention.

"Oh, Colin, don't be such a sourpuss."

His heart palpitated at such an alarming rate when he heard this admonishment, that he put on an ingratiating smile to prove that he'd rather be anything than a sourpuss. Here was Romilda Vane…what a beautiful name! The only girl in the whole wide world, as far as Colin was concerned. What went on in her mind?--that inscrutable spirit that defined the one Romilda Vane.

She was unique, set apart. The fact that she had dated Dennis didn't matter; Colin could look past that. But could he live without her, if she rejected him? He wanted her forever, to be his, and for himself likewise to be hers.

"Romilda," Colin began timidly, "do you think we could, walk and talk?"

"You mean together? Well, I suppose…" she said, haltingly.

He took her right arm, and held her hand. This act of effrontery was a risky decision on his part, but Romilda did not spurn him.

The pelican was still there, and they ambled past it. Later, Colin could've sworn he heard the bird say, "You're welcome." But he was swooning with amorous emotion, and might've been hallucinating.

Weeks passed. Romilda and Colin grew closer and closer, and now people considered them to be an "item." She was branded as being wayward in her relationships, dumping one brother, then dating the other. He was thought of as a Benedict Arnold, betraying Dennis' trust by running off with his ex-girlfriend. But both of them were nonchalant and apathetic about these calumnies.

June arrived, and Romilda had to start her O.W.L.'s. Colin saw little of her during this period, and he began to grow disconsolate. One day, Hermione stopped him in the corridor, just fresh from her Transfiguration N.E.W.T.

"What's wrong, Colin?" she asked him. "You look so glum."

"Romilda Vane is too busy to be with me these days, with all her examinations."

"Is she all you can think about?"

"Yes. I can't even take photographs now; my eyes get too blurred when I peer through the camera lens."

"Colin, I think you may be in love!"

"In love? Perhaps."

"This is great! Now we can open the Imperturbable Door."

"The Imperturbable Door? I had forgotten all about that!"

Hermione saw he was sincere. He must truly be in love, to have put something of this magnitude out of his mind. "But we must wait till Romilda completes her O.W.L.'s," she said.

"Yes, of course."

A fortnight later, Hermione, Colin, and Romida stood in an empty classroom. They were not in front of the door, because as Hermione so acutely deduced, people would notice what they were doing if they did it there, and they'd be gargantuan trouble.

"Now, Colin, Romilda, I'm afraid that what I'm about to tell you both some horrifying news."

"What is it?" he asked.

"This spell I discovered, involves a sacrifice."

"You know very well, Hermione, that I'd give up anything to go through that door."

"Even your Romilda Vane?"

"No! Anything but her!"

"It's the only way."

Colin stared at his loved one, and went over and gave her a kiss. She was beginning to tremble.

"Can't I give up photography instead?"

"No. Nothing will do except Romilda."

"Colin," his lover said, courageously, "if Hermione says it must be done, so it must be. For the last few days, you've been telling me how much you're dying to see what's behind the door. And if you must sacrifice me to do so, why not?"

"But Romilda, that's the one thing no decent wizard can do—sacrifice his true love. That's a deed worthy only of a Slytherin."

"And yet, my dear, it will drive you mad, never knowing what's behind the door. Remember that story about a boy who went to another world, and saw a bell and a hammer, and knew he'd go mad if he didn't strike it, despite the terror that might come from doing so? The same will happen to you, I'm sure. I know, we had plans to get married, but—screw them! I can't marry an insane man, which you will be shortly after you realize you missed a spectacular opportunity."

Colin turned to Hermione. "Well, if Romilda wills it, so it shall be done."

"I know it's hard, but sometimes we must do the things that displease us the most, in order to get what we want out of life."

Hermione took her wand out, and transfigured a nearby table into an altar of stone. She then had Romilda lay on this altar, and tied her down with some makeshift rope. Then she asked to see Colin's wand, turning it into a knife.

"Use this. Only the lover's wand will work, as the weapon."

Hermione stepped back, and Colin advanced forward. He gazed at his precious vixen, his minx. "Could I really do this to her?" he asked himself, as he raised his knife.

But he held it aloft in midair. He could not bring it down. She was so precious, so lovely, so Romilda.

"Colin, look me in eye." He did so. "Be strong, be brave. You're about to get your fondest dreams answered. Just imagine that I'm someone else, someone you hate and wouldn't be afraid to kill."

He imagined that Priscilla Ismugi was before him. That she had done something sinister, and that was why he was forced to dump her. That is was now time for Priscilla to pay the price for her evil actions.

Still, he had to turn his face away from his precious girl's body, as he drove the life down to her heart. She was silent through the whole procedure, and when he felt blood on his fingertips, he knew it was over.


End file.
